


We Shall Wait Too

by DreamingOfReapers



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Post 5X13, School Project, not canon compliant I believe, the author rambles alot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingOfReapers/pseuds/DreamingOfReapers
Summary: I wish I could say I know but unfortunately, I am not an oracle and I do not know when our hero will be reunited with his king. I hope he can find solace in the fact that we shall wait with him. We all shall wait for the return of the Once and Future King.





	We Shall Wait Too

**Author's Note:**

> This was a project for school. I kind of ramble in it. Apologies

While I stare blankly at the screen, trying to think of a beginning to the tale I wish to tell, all I can see is flashes of the ends much like the oracles of old. With where my mind is now, I think I shall begin there, for it only seems proper the beginning starts the end. It will save us both pain when we reach the true end.   
Our story ends at a lake, a quite beautiful one too. A lake that reflects the sun's beaming light, turning it into a thousand little diamonds that blinds our hero. Though if he knew we were calling him a hero, he probably smite us where we stood. Not just with the power he wields but also with his words. After ensuring that nothing remains of us, he would turn his sorrow and rage to the heavens and scream and curse until he collapsed from exhaustion. In his sleep (a pleasure he rarely gives himself as punishment for failing his king), the memories of his life before would haunt his dreams. Times of a child like innocence and laughter, a time free of the burden destiny placed upon his shoulders. He would wake up crying, run to the edge of the lake and fall to his knees, begging for his king back. Tragedy would course through him, escaping through the sobs that left his weakened body. Such sorrow exists because of a lifetime of heartache and mistakes. Our hero had lost sight of all the good he had done. He has forgotten about the time he saved the golden kingdom (a kingdom that would sooner see him burned at the stake than honor him and his sacrifices) from the disease that was caused by the clay monster known as the afanc. The time he saved the tyrannical king from the bug that would eat his brain. The time he saved the witch that would kill his king or his best friend's father. The time he gave a whole population hope for a golden age that did indeed come to pass. He has forgotten that it was he who slayed the beast that his master fought, it was he vanquished those who dared to try to harm his king. He has forgotten how he gave a drunkard with no hope, a home and family. How he gave a peasant hope to become the knight he wished to be in a time when only nobility could serve. How he risked his life time and time again, binding himself to the shadows and hiding his true self from those he loved, in order to remain by his king's side to continue protecting him. He has forgotten that despite all the bad, the awakening of the witch, the return of the druid boy, the decimation of the golden army, the death of his friends, father, lover, and king, that there once had been light in the dark caves that are now his thoughts, forever going deeper and deeper into the darkness. His forgotten all of the small victories and triumphs. Like the time he helped the peasant knight defeat the griffin. Or the time he helped a serving girl marry his king and ignite the golden age. Or the time he stopped the goblin (though the goblin being release was his fault but no one need to know that). Or the time he saved the tyrannical king from a troll (and by saved he means stopped them from marrying). He has forgotten about when he road on the back of dragon in order to save his king.   
All these memories of the good, if you were to look at the time line of his life before the sorrow, there would so much good, that the bad would few and far in between. But alas, the bad has plagued his mind and consumed his thoughts. He believes he deserves to be punished for his crimes, crimes that are nonexistent, for every misdeed had already been repented in the fact he fixed and corrected his mistakes.   
Of course if we were to tell him all of this he would once again, smite us down before returning to his spot beside the lake that disguised the entrance to Avalon where his king was healing. He stands vigil by the lake, not caring how long it has been since his king's near death, not caring how many centuries pass. He grasp on to the prophecy that his king will return in the time of Albion's greatest need like a child would grasp on to a stuffed animal at night. He tortures himself by going days without food or water or sleep until he is nothing but a bag of bones in barely there flesh. When death would come to sweep him away, his boundless magic would return and revive him. He then would scream and curse the dragon that revealed his duty to him the first place, curse the tyrannical king for killing innocents and turning his kin against his king, curse the witch that had once been a lady and his friend, curse the druid boy for wielding the sword that killed his king, but most importantly he would curse the gods for they were the ones who forced this mantel upon him.   
To be honest, this is the hardest part about writing a story for me. The part telling all the good deeds, writing the climax of the story and creating the characters is easy enough but knowing that there is an After. An after the story and after the pain. As a result I have a tendency to fixate on this. The pain and loss. Yes they won the war, but at what cost? Who died and what hole did it leave in the hearts of those who loved them? What sacrifices were made? I can write about a hero who had been normal then gasp! They are not so normal and given this quest that seem impossible. I can write about how they save the day and get the love interest. I can make them seem as though they feel no pain but that is not true. These heroes are men and women. Human. More often than not, just like my hero, we forget. But rather than fall into the abyss of the bad, we cling to the good and forget their mortality.   
I was not asked to give a lecture to tell a story. I shall tell you of the final battle.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Merlin raced across the battlefield, bile rising in the back of his throat. He prayed he wasn't too late, that he would be able to stop Mordred and save Arthur. He ran past the bodies of those he had just seen off, the bodies of those he had considered friends. He will mourn later, right now he needs to get to Arthur.   
Merlin couldn't tell if the ringing in his ears was from the panic or the screams of Morgana. The image of her body falling after that final spell will haunt his dreams because as she fell he did not see the witch that had tortured him and made his life hell but the beautiful lady of the court whose mere presence demanded everyone's attention. He will mourn her later too. Arthur was important. Merlin hoped he had done enough to deter the course of fate. He had commanded Aithusa to stop burning down those who wore the color of his home. He had called the sky to bow down to him and strike those who dared stand against him and his brothers. They had won! Those who lived are either getting medical attention or helping return the fallen ones. So where was Arthur? Merlin had done everything right in the end! He beat Morgana, their kingdom was victorious would live on. Where was Arthur?   
A sinking feeling accompanied by the feeling of pure fear washed through Merlin as he came over the hill. Down below was Arthur and Mordred. Mordred was down on the ground but Arthur had a sword in his gut. Merlin was racing down the hill praying to everything he made it. Memories flashed before his eyes. Kiligarah told him that he was meant to protect Arthur to ensure the golden age. All the battles and sacrifices the two had made. Had it really come down to this? Was it really all going to end because of a pathetic boy?  
Getting Arthur to the shores of Avalon was a difficult journey, each passing day Arthur had been getting weaker and the only good that came out of it was that Arthur knew now. Arthur knew now about his magic and everything he had done.   
"Your journey is only half way done, young warlock. Do not fear, The Once and Future King will rise again when Albion's need is greatest." That is what Kiligarah had said. The Great War had passed. Both of them. What could possibly be worse than all the major countries locked in a war that resulted in the death of millions? Where was Arthur?  
Merlin was getting really sick and tired of asking this question. I wish I could say I know but unfortunately, I am not an oracle and I do not know when our hero will be reunited with his king. I hope he can find solace in the fact that we shall wait with him. We all shall wait for the return of the Once and Future King.


End file.
